


move me on to any black square (use me anytime)

by amosanguis



Series: a/b/o AUs [6]
Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: Alpha Anthony Rizzo, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Minor Violence, Omega Kris Bryant, Pining, Possessive Behavior, Scenting, Sharing a Bed, Stealth Scenting, Things Are Platonic Until They're Not, title from a song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 18:43:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9338039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amosanguis/pseuds/amosanguis
Summary: All of this cuddling and codependency should have been a big fucking clue tosomeone.





	

**Author's Note:**

> \--Title from "I've Seen All Good People" by Yes.  
> \--Ross is still around because - from what I understand - he got a position with the team.  
> \--There is a scene with an unexpected heat, so a warning for the inherent consent issues that go along with that though nothing happens beyond a kiss.

-z-

 

“Maybe if you keep staring,” Ross says, stepping into Anthony’s line of sight, “he’ll finally notice you looking.”

Anthony glares.

 

-x-

 

Anthony settles in the grass of Comerica Park, his legs splayed as he takes in a brief moment of sunshine, chasing that pre-game calmness – he listens to the sound of balls cracking off bats, of balls thumping into mitts, of his teammates chattering around him.  If he really listens hard, he can make out the various conversations of the fan filling the park.

But then there’s a familiar scent filling his nose and he opens his eyes in time to see Kris settle between his legs, just enough time to brace himself as Kris falls backwards against his chest.

Anthony makes a slight _oomph_ sound even as his arms come up automatically to cross over Kris’s chest.  Kris had done this a few times at practice, but to do it during an away game was risky – there were cameras everywhere and alphas in the opposing dugout were likely to take note and use it against them.  But there’s nothing about Kris that reads like he was on alert – so Anthony rolls his eyes and goes with it.  (And if any of the opposing alphas _did_ say anything, Anthony would deal with them.)

Then Anthony finds himself with his nose pressed against Kris’s neck, his nostrils flaring as he takes in a deep breath – purposefully being over the top, trying to play this off as just another quirk, a game between them that those behind the cameras will ignore.  Kris giggles as he shies away from the contact – but nothing in his scent raises a red flag for Anthony, so he doesn’t actually let Kris get far.

“You just always look so relaxed,” Kris says, settling lower along Anthony’s chest, so his head was right under Anthony’s chin.  “And then you play such a good game.”

Anthony just hopes Kris doesn’t notice exactly how _not totally relaxed_ Anthony is, by shifting any more.

“I like to get the feel of the park before we play,” Anthony says, leaning further back, even as he bends a knee further upwards – trying to block them somewhat from prying eyes – and lays one arm haphazardly over Kris’s chest, subtly moving the scent gland at his wrist over Kris’s uniform.  “Listen to the people, our teammates; smell what’s in the air.  All that jazz.” 

He doesn’t tell Kris that he gages the opposing team’s alphas and omegas through their scents – looking to see who of the pitchers he can goad into hitting him, which of the omegas he can spike his scent at to distract them long enough to steal a base.  He knows that Kris does the same thing – gages who he can bat his eyelashes at, who among the other omegas he can intimidate with his height and scent.

“And what are you listening to, right now?” Kris asks, not looking up at Rizzo as he throws a ball up in the air and catches it.

Anthony smiles fondly down at the top of Kris’s head before he closes his eyes, dials in on his teammates’ talk.  He snorts when he realizes they were updating the betting pool – Hendricks wanted to move his date up, but the date he chose had already been picked by Addi.  Then he picks out Ross’s voice among everyone’s.

Anthony says, “Gramps says that we need to stop lounging around and keep warming up.”

Kris heaves a long-suffering sigh, before he nods.

Anthony drags his arm off of Kris’s chest, giving Kris’s uniform another pass over with his wrist’s scent gland, as he stands. 

Not that Kris even notices.

Not that _that_ doesn’t make Anthony want to scream.

 

-

 

Anthony _does_ notice smugly the way the opposing basemen wrinkle their noses as Kris jogs the bases towards home.  Then he sees Jarrod Saltalamacchia look over and knows that Jarrod’s put two-and-two together.  Then Jarrod’s taking his mask off and his glove and he’s smiling in Kris’s direction.

Anthony’s already out of the dugout to greet Kris at the plate, so it’s nothing for him growl low in his chest – his eyes flashing and his lips curling – and to take a step forward, before Jarrod’s putting his hands up and stepping backwards.

“You really want to try me?” Anthony asks.

“Not at all,” Jarrod says, even as he wears a hint of a smirk.

Then Kris is stepping across home plate and Anthony locks his eyes on him and smiles wide and pretends that nothing is wrong, pointedly ignoring Kris’s questioning look as he glances between Anthony and Jarrod.

 

-

 

The team’s spending the night in Detroit and everyone goes out after the game, but Anthony manages to beg off – saying he’s got two new bruises on his shoulder and another on his back that he needs to take care of.

Kris just gives him this look of utter betrayal, his too blue eyes big and round as he punches Anthony lightly on his uninjured shoulder.  “Come out with us,” he says.  Anthony almost longs for the days when Kris didn’t drink with the team – but those days had gone with a World Series win, so he knows he shouldn’t complain.

“I really can’t,” Anthony says, even as he’s desperate to say _okay, Kris, anything you want_.  He knows that everyone else on the team can smell how badly he wants to go out – but a quick look from Ross silences them all.

“Okay,” Kris says, turning away and heading towards the hotel lobby’s doors, meeting up with the rest of the guys.

“Don’t worry,” Ross says to Anthony even as Anthony watches Kris leave.  “I’ll look after him.”

“I know you will,” Anthony says.

 

-

 

Anthony’s nearly asleep when he’s startled awake by an incessant knocking at his door.  He mutes the television, ignoring the Property Brothers wax enthusiastic about whatever home it was they were standing in front of, and slowly stands.

When he gets to the door, he smells liquor and giddiness and Kris.

“Rizz,” Kris says, dragging out the nickname so it sounded like _Riiiiiiiizz_.  “Rizz, wake up.”

Anthony rolls his eyes and opens the door and lets Kris stumble into him.  “Hey, Kris,” he says softly, gently guiding Kris towards his bed and laying him down.  He watches fondly for a moment as Kris snuggles into the pillow Anthony had just been using, before he pulls off Kris’s shoes and jeans – then he steps away to fill a glass of water.

He puts the water on the bedside table before climbing in and climbing over Kris to get to the other side of the bed.  He doesn’t make it far, though, before Kris’s arms are around his neck and pulling him down so that Anthony was half on top of him.

“Better,” Kris says, burrowing his face into Anthony’s neck.

If they hadn’t done this so many times before, Anthony would be worried about Kris’s behavior and his own self-control.  Instead he just lets Kris cuddle in close and covers them both with the blanket.  It’s nights like these that Anthony lets himself indulge in – settling himself over Kris, putting his nose into Kris’s neck, dragging his scent-glands lightly over Kris’s arms before intertwining their fingers.

It’s not long before they fall asleep – their legs intertwine as their breathing evens out, the scent of each other filling them both up.

 

-

 

Anthony notices something’s wrong as soon as he jolts awake – and _oh, fuck_.

Kris had gone into heat in the middle of the night and there was an alpha snarling at the door.

Anthony tries to fly out of the bed, but Kris is whining and grinding himself against Anthony, grip strong as he tries to hold Anthony in place.  (They’ve woken up grinding into each other more than once before – but, unlike now, one of them would at least have had the courtesy of pretending to be asleep, allowing the other to sneak quietly out of the room.  They would then pretend like nothing happened, and the day would go on like normal.)

“Fuck,” Anthony curses, a growl coming from his chest as Kris thrusts up against him, the sweet-spicy scent of omega-heat was thick, choking  – and Anthony gives in and presses a hot kiss to Kris’s lips.  But the snarl at the door immediately brings him back out of it, replacing lust with a primal urge to protect Kris.

This time, Kris can’t hold Anthony down as Anthony surges towards the door and throws open the door.  He doesn’t recognize the other alpha – doesn’t take the time to – as he roars once in warning.  Distantly, as if heard from underwater, he hears doors opening and someone yelling his name.

But none of that matters as the strange alpha tries to dart around Anthony to get into the room, faking left but going right – but Anthony’s too quick as he grabs the guy by the back of his shirt collar and throws him against the far wall.  He buries his fist first in the guy’s eye, then nose, then cheek – feels cartilage and bone crack beneath his knuckles.  And just as he’s drawing his fist back for another punch, he’s tackled to the ground – only the familiar scents of his teammates preventing him from turning on them.

“Get the fuck off of me,” he snarls, throws as much of an Order into his voice as he can.  But Orders don’t work on betas and he’s stuck to the floor.  The rest of the team has filled the hall, the alphas and omegas snarling at the bloody stranger – who was realizing that this wasn’t a fight he was going to win.

Once he’s gone, Anthony feels his head beginning to clear.  He immediately looks at the betas still warily holding him down – sees Jason, Dexter, Kyle, and Jorge before his eyes finally land on Ross, standing behind the betas.

“Kris,” he is all he says.

“Don’t worry,” Ross says.  “Addi and Contreras got him.  They’re gonna take care of him, okay?”

Anthony fights against the surge of possessiveness again, forces himself to relax.  “Okay,” Anthony says, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.  His eyes flash open, “Not okay.”  The scent of Kris’s heat was everywhere and Anthony could hear exactly how Addi and Contreras were taking care of him even through the door.  He looks over to Ross, desperate as he says, “I need to get downstairs or to the roof or something, or I’m going to do something I’ll regret.”

“Okay, Rizz,” Ross says, glancing at the others.  They don’t completely let him go, but they stand him up and practically run him into an elevator.  Once inside, Ross pushes the button for the lobby and they all sort of just sag against the walls.  

“It could have been worse,” Jason says, his arm resting on Anthony’s shoulder.  “I mean, you could’ve straight up killed that dude, but you didn’t.”

Ross, looking right at Anthony, says, “But you were going to.”

Anthony looks down at his hands, at his bloody knuckles, and nods quietly.

 

-

 

“You were defending a teammate,” Joe Maddon says, putting his hands on both of Anthony’s shoulders and giving him a little shake.  “Don’t worry about it, okay?  These things still happen sometimes.  The lawyers will take care of it.”

Anthony nods, doesn’t say that if it hadn’t been for the others, he would’ve wound up on the Suppressants List for sure.  He doesn’t say that maybe he _should_ be watched – that maybe it wasn’t fair for alphas who weren’t involved in sports to be treated as less than; that even though they were less likely to go feral, they were still more likely to be jailed for it.

They’re leaving Kris and Addison in Detroit as the team travels back home to Chicago.  The thought of leaving them didn’t sit well with Anthony – but he knew there was no other choice.  Kris’s heat would last well into tomorrow afternoon and neither he nor Addi would be in any shape to travel.  And the Cubs still had a game to play back home, so the two would join them for the game after that.

 

-

 

Anthony’s doorbell rings and the sound of it makes him flinch.  He turns away from his microwave where he’d been watching his leftovers reheat and moves towards his door.

It’s Kris.  He knows even before he even opens the door.

“I’m sorry,” Kris says without preamble.

Anthony just blinks at him.

“I just didn’t want the first time we saw each other since,” Kris shrugs, looks down at the ground, “since, y’know—I didn’t want it to be at the clubhouse.”

“I get it,” Anthony says, tentatively he reaches out – giving Kris plenty of time to back away, instead Kris dives forward, wrapping his arms around Anthony and putting his nose into Anthony’s neck, making Anthony huff out a breath and stagger backwards.  “Okay, okay,” he laughs.

Then Anthony’s pulling him inside and shutting the door and maneuvering them towards the couch, Kris kicking his shoes off as they go – the both of them just flopping down, laughing, and shuffling around until Kris was on top, nestled comfortably between Anthony’s legs with his head against Anthony’s chest.  Anthony’s arms are tight around him, his nose buried in Kris’s hair.

Anthony doesn’t think about the last time they had been wrapped up like this – he just knows that he’s been aching with missing Kris.  They were never very far from each other during the season, always just a phone call or a glance away.  So when Kris was suddenly just _gone_ – Anthony had felt his absence like a missing limb.

“I missed you,” Anthony says, tightening his grip on Kris for a second with both his arms and his legs – a full body hug he takes care not to indulge in for too long.

“I missed you, too,” Kris answers, turning away from the TV and resting his chin on Anthony’s chest to look him in the eye.  He doesn’t add anything and they just grin goofily at each other.

Anthony can’t help himself, he reaches a hand up and swipes a thumb along Kris’s cheekbone.  He wants to kiss him, wants to move them forward – now that Kris was sober and here and so warm and he’s looking at Anthony like he wants nothing else, too.

Kris turns his face into Anthony’s palm, Kris hand coming up to hold Anthony’s in place as he intertwines their fingers.  Then he’s nosing down to Anthony’s wrist – finding the scent gland there, and inhaling deeply, his eyes closed.

Anthony’s breath hitches in his chest – he knows that his own arousal is evident in his scent and Kris just keeps breathing him in.

“I love how you scent-mark me before the games,” Kris confesses.  He opens his eyes just enough to look at Anthony.  “I love the way everyone can smell you all over me even though we’ve never done anything.”

 _Yet_ , Anthony thinks, _you keep this up and that’s going to change_.  His thoughts are echoed by a growl from deep in his chest, one that reverberates between them.  It elicits a smirk from Kris.

Kris pushes himself up, crawling further up Anthony’s body.  “I love the way the alphas on the other team glare at you for claiming me,” Kris pushes his forehead against Anthony’s, nuzzling again, and Anthony still hasn’t taken a breath as he listens.  “I love the way omegas from all around glare at me for having caught your attention.”  Kris’s lips are moving against Anthony’s as he says, “But most of all, I love the way we love each other,” then he’s pressing down firmly and the kiss is all the permission Anthony needs.

In one smooth motion, Anthony flips them over and kisses Kris hungrily.  “Me too,” he tries to say, “I love all of that, too,” but the words come out as a deep-chested growl.  Kris groans into the kiss, digs his fingers into Anthony’s hair, pulling him closer as he gets first one leg around Anthony’s waist and then another, thrusting up against him.

Anthony pulls back suddenly.

“Our first time isn’t going to be on this fucking couch,” he snarls, even as he bites at Kris’s neck, keeping Kris pinned to the couch with his weight.

Kris huffs out a laugh as he thrusts up again, feeling Anthony’s erection through his own jeans and Anthony’s stupid black basketball shorts that have never hidden just how _big_ Anthony is.  Anthony groans and bites him again before he hauls them both up and off the couch – herding Kris back towards the bedroom. 

Kris goes willingly.

 

-x-

 

“I can’t believe you two _finally_ worked your shit out,” Ross says, coming up to them and throwing his arms around both their shoulder.  “Now we can all focus on baseball instead of listening to you sigh at each other.”

Anthony doesn’t even bother pretending to upset with Ross’s chirping – he just looks over to Kris who meets his eyes, and they just smile at each other these big, dopey smiles filled with all the love they have for each for other.

 

-z-

 

End.


End file.
